Pianoforte
by Voluptuosity
Summary: It's my life. I know that it's almost over, but I won't miss the 17 years of hate, of nothing. I weep only for the last one, which is my story. Please, read my story.


**Pianoforte**

**The Beginning**

Where to start. With a story so big, I guess the only place to start would be at the beginning, when I was first born.

 I don't remember growing up with a "family". My mother was a party gal, always at one function or another, while my father was always busy with his work. I still haven't worked out what he actually "did"; as there was nothing really that he couldn't get the house elves or servants to do. He was a hypocrite, always saying that he hated muggles and didn't want anything to do with them. He hated them, yes that was true, though our house had slaves, servants… he would go out some nights, to one of his "girls" as I over heard him talk. When I was three, I walked in on him with a muggle, while they were on the bed, doing it. I must admit, I watched for a little while, amazed. He treated them roughly, while making love; it was just for his pleasure. My mother was never touched. While she was a beauty, my father stayed away. When there was a party at home, I would watch from the stairs. Father had one arm around the women he had spent the last 10 years or so with, and didn't get any closer. It was as though they were scared of each other. It puzzled me.

My nanny was, how can I put this, a rough lady. Brash and happy to be serving someone younger, weaker than her. It gave her a sense of power. She gave me a few beatings which I can never forget. Father never stopped her, maybe he couldn't be bothered, or perhaps he thought that it would help me become a man, I don't know. I do know that he was never afraid to add his own insults and anger to my skin. Many a times, I would be abused verbally and physically, then sent to my room. It was my room which turned to be my sanctuary. I remember spending many nights in there, nursing my bruises, with out a mother to hug me or put ointment of my cuts. It made me cold. I was a cold, empty person, who grew up without love, or life.

I didn't go outside much, it was to bright and happy. Our gardens were lush green, with a few fountains and rose bushes. There was always people out there, whether it was at a party, or a gardener, someone was always there, someone for me to watch. My room was on the third floor, and I am glad about that. My father never came inside, always sent some slave to get me. From my room, I can see the back gardens, the back of the driveway. Ironic, it is, that we have a drive way, we have a driver, and we have a limousine, but we don't use it? Father just has them to show he has money. To prove that he is rich, and no one can prove him wrong. No one wanted to. In the wizarding world, my father good as ran it. He could get any thing he wanted done. Almost anything, anyways.

Hogwarts. I started going there when I had just turned eleven. Going there was different than the life at home. There it seemed I could do no wrong to my fellow Slytherines. They practically worshiped me. It was pathetic really. Being followed around by two mindless idiots gave me power though, and half the school was mine. By the time end of fifth grade, I was a sex god. Girls followed me around. Blaise didn't though, thank god, because she is my cousin. Blaise Zabini. Her mother is related to my mother in some way, so we are cousins (perhaps second or third ones, but ones none the less). Blasie is the female version of me, she had the same type of childhood as me, and at school she has her own group of male fans. She is beautiful, with dark long brown hair, her makeup is limited, yet stunning. Her lips are done with red, no foundation, because it's not needed. Eye's have a slight darkness to the edges of them. I don't know much about it, as I don't use makeup, but Blasie is the person to go to if you need a make over. Blaise and I were never close, we saw each other about once a year, before we came to Hogwarts, and I spent most of the time thinking that she was a bitch, or a slut, while she thought I was a stuck up prick. I guess we were both right, we just didn't know HOW right. After the forth year, in the holidays, her family came over to stay, because their father had been arrested for being a Death Eater. Blaise witnessed my home life first hand.

It was the start of, not really a friendship, but an understanding. We sat together at school, stuck up for each other when one of us was in trouble (which, let me tell you, wasn't very often). Another thing, we both seemed to be the most wanted students in the school, so it would only time we would be hanging together. Blaise was very good with the guys, she could get anyone she wanted. Once or twice we would make a bet, on who could get who, and so forth, but Blaise never failed. I hardly ever, but once or twice I would pass unnoticed. Bloody Blaise, I would think. She would pick the girls she knew would have no time what so ever for me. I sighed, and spent the week carrying her books, opening doors… you got to be careful around that girl. In the end though, it was Blaise that showed me the passion I feel now. She introduced me to my saviour, the one thing which changed my life from turning into my father.

So this is where I am right now, on the brink of life and death, my world is everything but destroyed, for how can you call it destroyed when nothing can affect you? My happiness is complete, and I don't mind dying now, just as long as I can get my story out. I want you to read on, and I want you to spread it. Read my story now, and please, never forget me, for being forgotten is worse then death.


End file.
